Hail, so­ver­eign love that formed the plan
To save re­bel­li­ous, ru­ined man!
Hail, match­less, free, eter­nal grace,
That gave my soul a hid­ing-place.

Against the God that rules the sky,
I fought, with wea­pons lift­ed high,
I mad­ly ran the sin­ful race,
Regardless of a hid­ing-place.

Enwrapped in thick Egypt­ian night,
And fond of dark­ness more than light,
Madly I ran the sin­ful race,
Secure with­out a hid­ing-place.

But thus th’eter­nal coun­sel ran,
Almighty love, ar­rest that man!
I felt the ar­rows of dis­tress,
And found I had no hiding-place.

Indignant jus­tice stood in view,
To Si­nai’s fie­ry mount I flew,
But jus­tice cried, with frown­ing face,
This mount­ain is no hid­ing-place!

Ere long a heav’n­ly voice I heard,
And mer­cy’s an­gel form ap­peared;
She led me on with pla­cid pace,
To Je­sus, as my hid­ing-place.

Should storms of se­ven­fold thun­der roll,
And shake the globe from pole to pole;
No flam­ing bolt could daunt my face,
For Je­sus is my hid­ing place.

On Him al­migh­ty ven­geance fell,
That must have sunk a world to hell;
He bore it for the chos­en race
And thus be­came their hid­ing-place.

A few more roll­ing suns at most,
Shall land me on fair Ca­naan’s coast.
Where I shall sing the song of grace,
And see my glo­ri­ous hid­ing-place.